


Won't You Stay?

by erryday24carrots



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Nightmares, No Smut, One Shot, Post-War, Sloppy Makeouts, Smoking, Weed, Why Can't They Just Say What They Mean, kosmo is the goodest boy, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 03:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18130211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erryday24carrots/pseuds/erryday24carrots
Summary: And then his hands slide down again, unhurried, and come to rest on his waist, and Keith presses his lips to Lance’s shoulder.Eyes closed on instinct, he can’t help the shudder that wracks through him, but he isn’t able to be embarrassed about it because Keith does it again, keeps pressing slow kisses along his shoulders and the back of his neck, every now and then gently squeezing at his hips in reassurance. Each kiss shoots warmth through him, grounds him a little bit more, assures him that Keith is really here, with him, alive and wearing his shirt and not burning to death before his very eyes.“It’s okay, Lance,” Keith whispered as Lance began to cry, and he rubbed slow circles into his lower back. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m right here.”--------Keith comes to visit Lance as always, only this visit is not like the others.





	Won't You Stay?

**Author's Note:**

> To everyone who has told me to stop writing super long one shots and get back to writing chapters to the actual fics I have, you're not the boss of me, my ADHD is. Checkmate.
> 
> Something I wrote because I couldn't get it out of my mind. It's set post-war after everything has settled on Earth again. Lance is a flight instructor at the Garrison with Shiro, and Keith is the Head Ambassador for the Galra and the Blade of Marmora, who spends half of his time in space and half of his time with Lance. This fic kind of delves into the way Lance feels about Keith, and about how he truly feels about Keith's coming and going. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed being fucking done with it. Eat up, babes.

Lance actually was, for the first time in a while, very exhausted as he drove home from work.

The day had been not erratic, per se, but just packed. Packed with things and people and classes and meetings, and about fifty essays about safe piloting techniques sitting in a folder in his shoulder bag waiting to be graded. Lance usually didn’t give written assignments (he was a fighter pilot instructor, he had the _cool_ job) but he needed to have at least one assignment in his course that wasn’t based almost entirely off of flight simulators, so this was the one he did. And while he did enjoy reading them because his students were, actually, very bright, fifty essays always felt a daunting task.

And he’d had _two_ staff meetings today, which kind of kicked his ass - one with all Garrison staff and another with only piloting instructors, which was nice because it meant Shiro was with him for both of them. What was _rough_ though was that both were in preparation for the third giant meeting tomorrow, which had less to do with Garrison training and more to do with universal coalition things. All Voltron members were to be present, including representatives from the Blade and a couple planet coalition members from Olkarion and Balmera.

Again, not necessarily overwhelming, just… a lot.

Lance rolled the window down and let his arm hang off the edge, taking in the warm air and earthy smell of the road he drove on. The drive to and from the Garrison was a little bit lengthy, but Lance didn’t mind. He preferred it this way, actually, did this on purpose. His little house on a spacious plot of land about twenty minutes out from the city was better for him, away from the fast pace and rush of it all. Sometimes he’d be downtown and hear a car backfire and panic at the gunshot noise, or at the Garrison and listen to the thundering of footsteps that sounds too much like soldier footfall when it’s really just students running down the hall, and his body would tense and his heart would stutter and he’d have to remind himself all over again that earth wasn’t like that, the universe wasn’t like that anymore.

So his little house suited him well. And he didn’t mind that he lived alone, because-

Well. Because as he pulled into his driveway at around 7:00 and saw the red speeder and the lights on in his little house, he knew it really didn’t feel like he lived alone.

He parked and grabbed his bag from the seat next to him before getting out of the car. Shouldering it, he walked up the steps to the porch, the little light by the door flicked on and humming lightly. He walked in and immediately smiled when he was hit with the scent of something that was like lavender but not quite, and saw a new little candle burning blue on his counter. His smile grew wider at the sight of the figure curled up on his couch, dozing quietly. He hung up his bag by the door and began pulling off his Garrison uniform boots, letting them drop to the floor and stretching out a bit.

The sound of his boots hitting the floor must have been enough to rouse the figure on his couch, because said figure stirred and then blinked its eyes open, raising its head up a little to look at Lance before sending him a little smile.

“You’re home,” Keith mumbled, stretching out on the couch before standing and walking towards Lance as he dumped his keys in the bowl on the counter. “Damn, took you long enough.”

“Mornin’ sunshine, you let yourself in, I see,” Lance said, arms opening and pulling Keith in for a hug. Keith’s arms around his shoulders was a welcome pressure, one Lance missed more than he cared to admit.

“Yeah, well _you_ leave your door unlocked, dumbass,” Keith muttered into his shoulder, a groggy little thing.

“Correction, I left my door unlocked _today_. You know, most people don’t leave their door unlocked waiting for any random asshole to just waltz into their home.”

Keith laughed at that, and Lance felt it in his chest. “Well in that case, I’m flattered,” he said, stepping away and turning to walk into the kitchen. “It’s a little later for you though, yeah?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Lance leaned on the counter, smelling the candle. “Bunch of meetings today. What time’d you get in?”

“Not too long ago, landed at around four, didn’t get here until five,” Keith said as he poured a glass of water. He noticed Lance’s raised eyebrow as he took a sip. “I was gonna drop in and say hi, but I ran into Iverson who talked my fucking ear off for about a half hour and by the time I escaped you had already started class, I didn’t want to interrupt.” Lance laughed, and Keith leaned on the opposite side of the counter to face him.

“That’s Iverson for you.”

“Hah, yeah. I dunno. I was pretty tired after the trip, kinda just wanted to get home.”

Lance blinked at him then, feeling pleasant at that, and Keith blinked back and cleared his throat.

“Here, I mean. Not - I just… I wanted to get here. I changed and crashed within like five minutes,” he laughed. Lance nodded, but didn’t bring up his stuttering.

“Kosmo here?” Keith nodded towards the back porch.

“Outside.”

Lance pushed off the counter and made for the back, calling out behind him, “You eaten yet?”

“No, I thought I might make dinner but I figured I’d spare us both from that,” Keith replied. “Chinese?”

“Orange chicken!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you like.”

Keith began to dial, and Lance couldn’t help but smile at that as he pulled open the sliding glass door to step onto the porch, because maybe Keith knew what he liked from their favorite Chinese takeout place, but he didn't know it all. Not really.

Not even the half of it.

Kosmo was laying out in the warm air on the porch, diligently watching the little fireflies that had begun to creep out with the darkness. He pounced on Lance as soon as he saw him, ruffing and prodding at him and licking at his face before settling down as Lance scratched behind his ears. And then he heard a whistle from inside, and Kosmo zapped out from under him and transported to the kitchen where Keith had called him.

“Okay, well, that was fucking rude,” Lance said, walking back to where Keith stood holding Kosmo’s face in his hands and making baby noises, feeling warm inside because he always felt warm whenever Keith was in his house.

“I didn’t go through two teleduv runs for you to spend time with my dog and not with me,” Keith teased, and Lance grinned at that, because what Keith didn’t know is that all he ever wanted to do was spend time with him and absolutely nothing else.

“So tell me, how long have you decided to grace me with your presence this time, O Black Paladin,” Lance poked at him as he shucked off his uniform jacket and tossed it onto the couch. He didn’t fail to notice how Keith tensed up a bit at the question, his eyes dropping to the floor and his smile wavering.

“Uh… well it -” Keith started, and then stopped himself, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Not for very long.”

Lance pretended to not be upset upon hearing that. He didn’t get to stay very long last time, either. “Okay, that’s okay,” he said instead. “How long?”

Keith hesitated again. Grimaced a bit as he said, “Three days.”

Lance knew he was doing a poor job now of pretending to not be upset. But it was fine, it would be fine. He wasn’t even supposed to care that much anyways, wasn’t he?

“Well that’s okay, I’m sure we’ll survive,” he said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “When will you come back?” And Lance knew it probably sounded a little desperate to ask how soon Keith would be returning when he’d literally just gotten here only hours before, but the question slipped out of him before he could stop it. Which he hated, but not as much as he hated Keith’s answer.

“A couple months.”

And Lance _knew_ how upset he must have looked, because Keith immediately sighed and looked like he wanted to apologize, which was stupid, because what did he have to apologize for? He was only doing his job, which was completely necessary as an ambassador for the Blade - Lance was just… a little shocked. Because while Lance loved his job now and felt fairly content with the life he had, the weeks when Keith would come stay with him were really the highlights. They’d become so close after the war, which was comical, considering how his now best friend used to once be his self proclaimed worst enemy.

After Keith had been there for him after Allura’s death, and Lance had given him a place to stay whenever he was on earth, Keith would just do this - he’d come back to earth for a little while and stay at Lance’s place before being called on a mission for a few weeks in space with the Blade. And then the mission would end and he’d come back to earth, to Lance, and be with him for a few weeks before getting called out again. And every time he’d leave it hurt just a little bit more, but Lance kept himself busy and content with the knowledge that Keith would always come back within a matter if days. But now…

“That’s… wow, um,” Lance stuttered. “That’s kind of… longer than it’s ever really been before.”

Keith leaned his elbows on the counter again and put his face in his hands, groaning. “I know, and I’m so sorry Lance, I know it’s probably really inconvenient to have me just dropping by whenever I’m done with a mission, I get that. I really don’t like being so intrusive on your life and I guess I was just hoping that maybe if I gave you some time to yourself -”

“Hey, woah, wait, what the hell are you talking about? What do you mean ‘intrusive’? Keith you know I want you here, right?”

Keith peeked out from between his fingers to look up at Lance, before sighing and dropping his hands. “Yeah, I mean I know that. I guess I just… I dunno. It just sucks. It’s not even _that_ serious of a mission,” Lance could hear the lie in his voice, “like it could probably be completed just fine by Krolia but apparently I need to be there as Head Ambassador, which is just a fancy term for ‘Shitty Figurehead’-”

“You’re not a shitty figurehead.”

“Yeah, I know, but I feel like it,” he sighed. “I just… I’ll just miss you.” He looked up at Lance again and fuck, his heart lurched at those words and he would do anything if it meant Keith didn’t look at him with those sad eyes ever again. And maybe if he were a braver person, he would have said that to him, but he didn’t. Instead, he just curled his fingers around Keith’s wrist, felt his pulse beating a little fast.

“I’ll miss you too,” Lance said, and watched the pink in his cheeks as the words settled over him. “We’re gonna figure it out.”

And they both knew that ‘it’ was about so much more than just the amount of time Keith had with Lance.

Keith opened his mouth to say something else, but then the was a knock on the door and they pulled apart a little more abruptly than necessary, and Lance went to pay for the Chinese food while Keith got out forks and napkins and sat down on the couch, and they didn’t talk any more about it.

They did talk though. They settled into their easy way of talking that flowed from Keith explaining his most recent mission and Lance letting Keith in on all the gossip at the Garrison, which both found to be amusing, and bickering about which alien documentary to watch (“Keith, that one is like a million years old and wildly inaccurate.” “Yeah, that’s why it’s so funny, obviously.”) and reminding each other about things they had to do tomorrow. It settled over them both and never lulled, until Keith yawned halfway through a sentence and Lance determined it was time for bed.

“You can head up to the shower, I’ll pick up,” he said as he gathered his and Keith’s boxes and utensils to take to the kitchen. Keith trudged up the stairs slowly, no doubt making for his room to grab his things (Lance only had one guest bedroom other than his, and Keith had practically claimed it for his own) and hop in the shower. Lance breathed deep when he was all the way up the stairs and out of sight before leaning heavy against the sink and rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

_Three days._

_A couple months._

It never felt like it was enough.

`````````````````````````````````````````````````

Lance had nightmares that night.  

Never anything he could remember anymore. There used to be a time, back on the Castleship with the lions, where he’d have terrifyingly vivid nightmares that stuck to the insides of his mind like molasses. His friends dying, his family dying, him dying. Each one of them, every person he cared about writhing in pain or being slowly ripped apart or just _burning_ in front of him, and he’d always be buried up to his waist in something or other, unable to move, unable to help, unable to cover his ears to stop the screaming.

They came different now. More fragmented, a little less solid, a little more echoey. They’d come faster than before, and he’d only get glimpses of his subconscious and his worst fears. He’d feel little bits of it, blood and battle noises, gunshots and footfall and _screaming_ , always screaming, always out of his reach to stop it. He’d wake up dazed and slightly panicked, and his heart wouldn’t stop pounding until hours after. He always felt so unsettled, uncomfortable in his skin, would always have to keep himself from calling his sister or Shiro or _Keith_ because logically he knew they were alright, but what he felt was a different story.

He shook in bed this time, even though the open window was letting in the warn night air, even though his comforter was wrapped around him. He shook and shook until he felt like he was vibrating in his bed too much, and he stood and breathed deeply in his room, trying to will his body to relax even though he knew it was ultimately a lost cause.

He left his room at around 1:15 and went downstairs for water, partly because moving made him feel less dizzy than standing in one place and partly because that’s just what you do after a nightmare. Just drink some water, and go back to bed. He huffed a laugh, filling the glass in the sink.

He wished it was that easy. He wished it was as easy as drinking some water and going back to sleep. He wished it was as easy as forgetting the way Keith screamed in his head, pained and wretched. He wished it was as easy as Keith coming into his home and then just not leaving again, because every time Lance thinks about Keith leaving it’s like a nightmare of its own.

He hears the creak of a door upstairs and footsteps, but he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning his palms on the counter, head ducked low between his shoulders. Doesn’t move when he hears the flick of the hallway light come on, or when he hears footsteps slowly go down the stairs, or when those steps come to a stop in the entrance to the kitchen, or when he hears a soft sigh behind him. Just stands, just hangs his head, just breathes.

“Which one?”

Lance winces when he hears how gentle his voice is, because he knows it doesn’t come from a place of pity, but from a place of understanding. He doesn’t pretend to not know what he’s asking. He doesn’t move.

“Yours,” he says. “The burning one.”

Another sigh from behind him, and then nothing else, but Lance still doesn’t move. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t face him because he knows if he does he’ll be greeted with the sight of Keith in his boxers and Lance’s long sleeved band shirt that he’d noticed was missing from his drawer earlier that night, and fuck, he was already completely overwhelmed with one array of emotions right now, he didn’t know how he’d survive throwing his feelings for Keith into the mix.

And for a minute there he thinks Keith might have gone, left him in the kitchen to deal with this by himself, but he really should have known better because in all the times he’s been like this, Keith’s never left him alone. Not once.

A featherlight touch of fingers to his back is what he gets instead, so slowly and gingerly, not like he’s worried Lance will break but like he knows Lance needs him to take it slow, for his sake. So they start gentle, tracing the dark scar that blooms from the center of his back, around towards his sides, up onto the tips of his shoulders. Keith touches it all, delicate, like he’s memorizing the patterns of it with his fingers. Lance feels his other hand press against him too, and they move slow, up from the small of his back, dipping with every muscle, until they rest against each of his shoulder blades. They don’t push, there really isn’t any pressure at all. He just spreads his fingers and lets the heat from his hands seep into the cool skin on Lance’s back. He’s so close to him, so close; he can feel Keith’s breath on the nape of his neck.

And then his hands slide down again, unhurried, and come to rest on his waist, and Keith presses his lips to Lance’s shoulder.

Eyes closed on instinct, he can’t help the shudder that wracks through him, but he isn’t able to be embarrassed about it because Keith does it again, keeps pressing slow kisses along his shoulders and the back of his neck, every now and then gently squeezing at his hips in reassurance. Each kiss shoots warmth through him, grounds him a little bit more, assures him that Keith is really here, with him, alive and wearing his shirt and not burning to death before his very eyes. The kisses falter, and Lance lets his eyes crack open.

“You remember how you got this scar?” Keith whispers to him, lips brushing the base of his neck. Lance swallows, hopes his voice doesn’t crack when he speaks.

“I… I pushed Coran out of the way of an explosion on the Castleship. Years ago.”

“Yeah,” Lance can feel his eyelashes against his skin as he leans his forehead down. “Saved his life. You saved so many lives that day.”

Lance blinks hard, willing the tears beginning to form in his eyes not to spill over. He knew where this was going, Keith knew that he knew where this was going, but he didn’t stop.

“You aren’t useless, Lance,” he murmured, hitting the nail on the head. “You’re not incapable of saving the people you love. This scar is proof of that, proof of how much people need you.” A tear slipped out.

“It’s okay, Lance,” Keith whispered as Lance began to cry, and he rubbed slow circles into his lower back. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m right here.” He began to press more kisses to Lance’s shoulders and the scar on his back, letting Lance stand there and take it all in, absorb the affection he didn’t know he so desperately needed, because friends don’t do this, just friends _don’t_ do this.

And fuck, everything he needed was standing directly behind him pressing kisses to his skin, and Lance stood there like a mess, sobbing onto the counter of his kitchen, completely powerless in his ability to tell that to him. Instead Lance took a shuddering breath and reached a hand up to wipe at his eyes and calm his breathing. And while all the attention from Keith had certainly grounded him and mentally brought him back to reality, his body still felt tense and tired, like it was still caught up in the panic from when he’d woken up. He sighed.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I guess I just wish I could relax about it, y’know?”

There was a contemplative silence from behind him for a little bit, and before Lance could wonder if he’d said the wrong thing, the hands on his waist squeezed him again and Keith was stretching up onto his tiptoes until his mouth was by his ear.

“Hey, what if I said I had something for you?” he asked. Lance turned his head just the slightest, trying to see if the glimmer in his eyes matched the tease in his tone, but he couldn’t.

“Yeah?” he huffed a laugh. “What’s that?”

Then Keith was slowly pulling away (and if his hands lingered just a tad on Lance’s hips, neither said anything about it) before saying, “It’s a surprise. Wait here.” and going back upstairs.

Lance took a second to gather himself before Keith came plodding down the steps again, holding something in his hand. And Lance had been right earlier; the sight of Keith in his sleepwear was enough to make him suck in a breath when he turned and saw him, but he managed to collect himself by the time Keith strode up to him and opened his hand, palm up, to show what looked to Lance like two joints and a lighter. Lance couldn’t hold in a real laugh this time.

“Where the hell did you get those?” he asked, picking one of them up and examining what looked to be… blue weed through the sheer rolling paper?

“Pidge gave them to me when I stopped at Olkarion a little while ago,” he said, laughing at Lance’s “That little gremlin” and snatching the other joint back. “They’re an Olkarion strain. Not as strong as earth weed, surprisingly but… it’s helped me relax enough to go to sleep before, so… if you wanna..?” Lance looked at him and grinned.

“Yeah, okay.”

Keith pulled him out to the back porch where they sat on the creaky bench and lit up, not even flinching when Kosmo materialized onto the steps next to them, apparently lonely up in Keith’s room by himself.

The joint was fine, good even, and for something that seemed blue in color it tasted more green, like pine almost. It was a nice break from the shitty weed Keith and him usually smoked, and for the next ten minutes he and Keith passed it back and forth, taking long pulls and letting them out into the air and watching the fireflies dance in the grass field behind Lance’s house.

And Keith was right. He was slowly getting high but he definitely felt it more in his body than he did in his brain, which was good because he was honestly really enjoying the way this moment felt compared to how he felt about twenty minutes ago. It was just like Keith to be able to take Lance out of those broken moments and place him into better, more comfortable ones. Lance really loved that about Keith.

Lance really loved Keith.

He took another long pull and didn’t blink an eye at that before handing the joint back over to Keith. He knew that already. Knew that for a long time. The weed didn’t make it any easier to say out loud though, and Lance frowned at the smoke as he pushed it out of his lungs. And honestly? Fuck that. Fuck his own inability. When did he go from being the blue and red paladin of Voltron to a scared pilot instructor who can’t even talk about his feelings when he’s stoned?

The breeze blew. He turned to ask Keith if he was getting cold, but when he turned Keith already had his eyes on him. Those piercing, heavy eyes that pinned Lance down where he sat, and the words he’d wanted to come out came out as something else entirely.

“I think you should stay.”

Keith didn’t ask what he meant, because of course he already knew. Instead of a response he took a pull from the joint and finished it off, dropping the roach in the little ceramic bowl behind them. He held the smoke in for a little bit, and when he let it out it was right in the space between the two of them, and Lance wanted nothing more than for Keith to occupy that space himself instead.

“Can’t,” was all he said, already picking up the other joint and flicking on the lighter.

“Why?”

“I told you why.”

“No, you told me why you think you should go, you didn’t tell me why you can’t stay.”

That stopped Keith from pulling the joint that was already halfway to his lips. Lance took it instead so it wouldn’t go out, but he didn’t break eye contact with Keith. When he was done holding the smoke, he blew it into the space between them. Keith’s move.

He had a look in his eyes. “Don’t do this, Lance.”

“Do what?”

“Make it harder to leave than it is already.”

“Then just don’t leave?”

“Lance-”

“Don’t pretend like we both don’t want the same thing.”

“We don’t always get what we want.”

“Says who? Why the fuck not? Look, Keith, if I’m misinterpreting what you want-”

“Of _course_ you’re not, fuck’s sake Lance, of course I want-”

“What? What do you want Keith?”

“This! Obviously!” he yelled, gesturing with his arms to all around him, looking honestly at a loss. “This is what I want,” his voice softened. “This life, here. With you.”

They fell quiet for a moment, letting the crickets fill the silence around them. Lance’s muscles felt so loose, and that was really the only thing that kept him from reaching over and tucking the stray hair back behind Keith’s ear. Keith sighed heavily.

“I just…” he started. Licked his lips. “This mission… it’s about reestablishing the Galra people under the Blade of Marmora. Finding a new home planet, a place to start over, restore culture and all that. Which is great but…”

Lance waited.

“But I’m the head ambassador for the Blade, which means it all comes down to me in like, literally every aspect. They want me to be the figurehead of this whole race of people that I don’t even necessarily feel a part of, and it’s all happening so fast, and I didn’t even really want the fucking job in the first place!” his voice rang out in the night, the only angry sound to be heard for miles in the quiet of the field and the fireflies. Keith sighed again and took the joint from Lance’s fingers before standing and walking up to the porch railing, leaning his hips and hands against it, head hanging. He didn’t even take a pull of the joint. It was quiet for a long time, and then Keith spoke.

“What I want isn’t necessarily the best choice for everyone else,” he said, voice wavering. “I just… I have to suck it up and I have to go and I have to lead, because everyone else is depending on me to do that. Even if I…” he hesitated, finally pulled it, “...no matter how much I want to stay.”

It was silent again for a while. Keith took a few more pulls from the joint before reaching up and rubbing at his eyes, exhaling shakily. And to be honest, Lance wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know how so much pressure could be put on one single person in such a short lifespan that they convince themselves that they don’t deserve to chase what they want, and he didn’t know how to even begin to tackle Keith’s issues with priorities. But he did know that he only ever wanted to make Keith happy, because all he ever deserved to be was happy. And he had to try to make him see that.

“Growing up with Shiro, and two years in a Quantum Abyss with Krolia, and you’re really gonna act like they haven’t taught you anything?”

Keith, turned to face him, scowling, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, holy shit Keith, those two are the most “Chase your dreams, anything is possible” people I’ve ever met in my life? Shiro has finished every single Garrison graduation speech I’ve ever heard with something about, like, chasing happiness, following your dreams, do what you love. And Krolia loves you more than anything in this universe…do you really think that if you were to admit to them that leading the new Galra race isn’t what you want, they wouldn’t support you? You think if you told them you wanted to stay, they wouldn’t let you?”

Keith blinked, like he wasn’t expecting that. He broke eye contact, and Lance stood up.

“Jesus, I mean do you really think we all wouldn’t immediately have your back? Hunk, Pidge, every one of us is always on your side. If you think that if you were to step down as Blade Ambassador we wouldn’t be there for you in the aftermath you’re so fucking mistaken,” Lance stood a little ways in front of him now, incredulous. “You fight so much and you just… you make things so much harder on yourself than they need to be but… Keith, you don’t always have to do things on your own.”

Keith blinked at him again, but this time his eyes were glossy like he was holding in tears, and he shook his head. He turned his back to Lance again, hands on the railing of the porch to steady himself. Took a shaky pull from the joint that probably should have gone out by now, but somehow still burned.

Lance’s heart ached, ached so much because for his whole life this boy had been denied happiness, been denied a home, denied continuity, denied peace - always on the run, this one.

And now he _knew_ what he wanted, knew what would make him happy, and the only thing that denied him of having it was himself. Where he leaned against the porch railing he looked so small. Small and cold, as a gust of wind pierced through the warm night air and hit his bare legs and thin shirt, and he shivered the smallest bit.

And it might have been because of the weed that his legs didn’t quiver as they carried him forward to him. Might have been the weed as to why his hands didn’t shake but moved with a gentle assuredness as he placed them on his hips and slowly, slowly wrapped them around his waist and pulled him close, flush against his chest. Might have been the weed as to why as his breath didn’t shudder when he tucked his face into the side of Keith’s neck, but breathed him in. Might have been the weed as to why his voice didn’t tremble, didn’t even waver, when he pressed his lips to the spot just below Keith’s ear and whispered to him.

“ _Stay_.”

It might have been the weed, but Lance thinks he’s just wanted that for a long, long time.

And for someone usually so hesitant to physical contact, Keith melted into it so quickly. His hand not holding the joint left the railing to grab onto Lance’s arms wrapped around his middle, his muscles loosened into it and he leaned into Lance’s chest, his mouth fell open in the sweetest sigh Lance had ever heard and he propped his head back onto Lance’s shoulder like he didn’t even mean to, like he couldn’t even help it.

“Lance,” it came out quiet as Lance continued to slide his lips along his neck, smooth and easy, kissing his skin and actively ignoring the urge to press forward more when Keith reached back to tangle his fingers in Lance’s hair-

“Lance, we can’t-”

-the gasp Keith lets slip shoots warmth through him, and he nibbles on Keith’s jaw, squeezes at his hips like Keith had done for him earlier, and he was so warm, so warm and soft against him, something precious, something beautiful, he wanted to press his lips to every part of him-

“We-... we s-shouldn’t… it’s gonna…”

-Lance ran his hands up his sides, across his ribs, before coming back down to wrap around him tight again, hold him close, close enough to melt into his chest, close enough to feel his heartbeat, not close enough, never close enough-

“It’s… oh…”

-and Keith just can’t seem to remember what he was saying when Lance began to suck sweet little marks onto him, biting softly, bruises blooming on his skin, and Lance would get to _see_ them-

“Hah…mmh…”

-and Lance simply can’t hold in the moan he makes when Keith just ever so slightly rolls his ass against him, makes the cutest little noise in his throat when he does it-

“Lance… oh, fuck…”

-and when Lance gently pushes him against the railing, cages him in, he lets out this soft little whimper and Lance can’t help but lightly sink his teeth down into the junction of his shoulder and neck-

-and Keith’s grip in his hair tightens and if his eyes weren’t already closed Lance is sure they would have rolled back-

-and then Kosmo zaps away from his spot on the stairs and they both freeze immediately, seemingly just realizing what they were doing.

Kosmo probably got bored or tired and just teleported back up to Keith’s room to sleep. The crickets don’t take notice, they just keep chirping. And the breeze blows. And the joint sits forgotten on the railing, only half smoked and burnt out.

And even though the moment they’d been caught in has been shattered, neither of them move away. Keith lets go of his grip on Lance’s hair but doesn’t pull his hand back. Lance loosens his hold around Keith’s waist but doesn’t let him go.

They just stand there, breathing, and neither one of them really knows what to do next. And Lance thinks about what just happened, about how good he feels like this, Keith in his arms and in his home, and about how he’s going to be gone in two more days. And that thought alone is enough to make his heart sink low. He doesn’t know how to do this. Doesn’t know how he’s gonna get through months without Keith, after everything that just happened.

“ _Keith_ ,” he whispers, and he knows he sounds broken, “ _won’t you stay_?”

Keith doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and with every passing one Lance feels his stomach drop a little bit lower. And then Keith shifts and Lance almost sobs because he’s so sure that Keith is trying to push him off, push him away, and he almost does until he sees that Keith’s just turned himself around to face him, and Lance is pinned by those eyes all over again.

And there’s hands slowly settling on Lance’s chest, and he knows the blush on Keith’s cheeks can’t look much different than the blush on his, and he’s holding his breath and he’s scared to blink and miss a second of whatever is happening in front of him right now. Keith reaches up further and cups his face in one hand, brushes his thumb against Lance’s bottom lip, and he’s never felt something so heavenly in his life, and they’re so close, so _close_ that Lance could just bend down a bit and-

“Yes.”

And then he’s kissing him and Lance’s heart has leapt into his throat, and Keith’s hands are so warm on his skin and everything that’s been sitting in Lance’s chest for so long just trickles away, bleeds out into the kiss and it’s searing, blinding, burning and Lance just wants more, more, _more_.

What starts soft and sweet turns into something hungry and open mouthed so fast because they’ve both been feeling for so long, and kissing Keith is good, feels right, so he holds him tighter, breathes into him, tastes the pine flavor of the weed on his lips. Keith kisses him with just as much fervor, hands sliding up past his face and around his neck and holding on tightly, like he doesn’t want to ever let go.

_Keith will stay. Keith will stay. Keith will stay._

_Keith will stay with me._

He groans when Keith licks into his mouth, warm and eager, like he’s starved and really, who is Lance to deny him such indulgence? It’s faster than Lance ever imagined it would be, and they kiss like they fight - with everything, unable to hold anything back, and Lance wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s heated and impatient, and before Lance knows it he’s got Keith pressed up against the railing again, and Keith is letting those little noises slip out of him again and he’s arching his back into him and damn, Lance has never felt anything like this before. Not with anyone. Which explains his total lack of self control that comes when he lets his hands dip below Keith’s waist to the small of his back, and then to palm lightly at the top of his ass, and Keith lets out another one of his moans and leans his body into it and it drives Lance _wild_.

And so he kisses along Keith’s jaw then, fixes his lips back on Keith’s smooth neck and leans down just a little, gets his hands under Keith’s pretty ass and gives a quick squeeze to his thighs as his only warning before he’s hoisting Keith up and onto the railing behind him, so he’s now about half a head taller. And Keith, fucking _Keith_ , just goes with it so smoothly, just gives a cute yelp of surprise. Barely tightens his hold on Lance’s shoulders and doesn’t miss a beat and Lance _loves_ that. He loves that they work that way, that one of them can just do something and the other will just adapt to it, loves how well they work as a team. Lance thinks that Keith’s is the only team he ever wants to be on again.

But then he doesn’t really have room in his brain for thinking anymore because Keith is tangling his fingers up in Lance’s hair and pulling him back up to kiss him hotly, and Lance feels him wrap those legs around his waist and pull him in by his hips and Lance sees stars behind his eyelids, and Keith is making the loveliest noises to him. Lance knows they’re both still pretty loose from the weed but Keith seems even moreso, his body yielding under Lance’s fingers.

“ _Touch me_ ,” he pleads it against his lips, and Lance is on it in a heartbeat. Gives a squeeze to his hips before reaching around to grip under his knees, squeezing there too, and then slowly running his hands under his thighs, kneading into them the further up he got, and then he’d run his hands along the tops of them, trace his fingers up until they’d dip under the very ends of his boxers.

And Keith seemed to very much like this, because every time Lance did it he’d keen and arch further into him. He would run his hands quick through Lance’s hair before gripping at it every time Lance would bite down on his bottom lip, dig his fingers into his shoulders every time Lance kissed a new spot on his neck, shivered and gasped and basically fell apart against him, and Lance savored every bit of that moment, every sound Keith made and taste he had.

Eventually after a long while things slowed down. Their kisses became softer and slower, less hungry and more appreciative. They loosened their grips on each other again but still didn’t let go, just held each other lightly and kissed slowly and listened to the crickets chirp until Lance pulled away and looked up at Keith.

Keith, who was starry eyed and sleepy in his arms. Keith, now with pink, kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair. Keith, with a bunch of new markings running along his neck and jaw. Keith, who held Lance’s entire heart, all of it, whether he knew it or not, who was staring at Lance and looking as if he was thinking the exact same things. Lance sighed, dreamily now.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, somehow brave, somehow so easily. Keith gave his rare, beautiful, dimpled smile and Lance forgot how to breathe. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

And then there was a very loud crash from inside the house behind them, and they both froze and looked at each other with _What the fuck?_ on their faces before Keith peered over Lance’s shoulder through the sliding glass window, and proceeded to look very unimpressed.

“Kosmo just knocked over your lamp with his tail,” he said, monotone. Lance craned his head as well as he could with an armful of boy to look behind him, and was met with Kosmo snoring on the couch, his tail wagging in his sleep and Lance’s lamp knocked off of the little table beside the couch. They laughed at the sight of it together, and Lance’s heart swelled with the knowledge of what Keith’s laugh felt like against his chest like this. It was a really nice feeling.

Eventually Keith’s laughter was interrupted by an impressive yawn, and when Lance checked his phone and saw that it was almost four in the morning he and Keith agreed that they should probably head to bed to recover what little sleep they could before they had to be up to start the day. He helped Keith off of the railing, but didn’t let go of his hand while they walked back inside and began to head upstairs. They’d pick up the lamp in the morning.

“Hey, um, y’know I kinda thought-… well I don’t know if you…” Keith seemed to not know how to find the right words, and Lance watched him stutter them out. He knew what he was trying to say, he was just genuinely interested in how he was gonna say it this time.

“Well I just thought that since you - you’re having nightmares that maybe I should… sleep in your room tonight..? Just to make sure you’re… okay…” he trailed off unsuredly, eyes on the floor, and it was the cutest thing Lance had ever seen. Lance tilted his chin up with his knuckle so he could see his face.

“It’s funny, I was actually just gonna say the same thing.”

Keith’s relieved grin split his face wide and damn near blinded Lance, but then it didn’t matter because Keith was bounding into Lance’s room with him in tow, and crawling onto the side of the bed he always took, because _of course_ he’s slept in Lance’s bed before.

Lance pauses to look at him, Keith, in his bed, his shirt, and it isn’t the first time it’s happened, but it is the first time with real meaning. So when he crawls into bed beside Keith he immediately leans over and kisses him, because that what he wants it to mean now. He wants it to mean this now, means that he loves him, every time they get into bed together from here on out.

His bed feels so much warmer and more welcoming than it had when he’d first gone to sleep that night. Keith does that about the places he’s in. Lance wants him to do that to this place too, his home, _their_ home, because now he knows Keith is staying with him. Wants him to come into his home and his life and spread his warmth everywhere, wants him everywhere, wants him to be his everything. Lance thinks about how long he’s wanted that and thinks that maybe, Keith’s been his everything for a long time. So he tells him that.

“Keith, I-” he begins, faltering only slightly under that gaze, those _eyes_ . Keith’s fingers curl around the back of his neck and he pulls Lance to lean over him. Their noses brush. He presses on. “You make me so happy. So _fucking_ happy and I just… all I want is to be able to do that for you, too. I want to be what makes you happy - you deserve everything. I want to be everything for you.”

Keith gives him the fondest look he’s ever seen. He reaches up and cups Lance’s face in one hand, strokes his thumb across his cheekbone. Smiles sweetly.

“Oh, honey,” he whispers. “You already are.”

When their lips collide again, they don’t part for a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Strike 2 for Kosmo, fr.
> 
> That's all folks. 
> 
> Actually not really, I'm thinking about maybe writing a short fic about the morning after, or perhaps about when they tell the team and the rest of the Coalition that Keith is stepping down. Probably something equally as fluffy, and maybe a tad bit dirtier ;) Thanks for reading


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